


In Dreams

by KestrelShrike



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Fluff, I no longer buy into this theory, a literal wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3629118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KestrelShrike/pseuds/KestrelShrike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this a few weeks ago, but it's kind of cute. So here you go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Dreams

She had nightmares in the time after. Did the others? Lavellan didn’t know, didn’t dare ask. There was so much she kept close to her own skin now, afraid that if she were to show the smallest weakness the overwhelming faith everyone had put into her would diminish, and this fragile new world would splinter and crack.

In her dreams, there was red. It came from mouths, from wounds that gaped open like cracks in the earth. It was all her fault. If the red didn’t come from her bow, it came from her actions. Before her, friends and family died again and again, and upon waking she did not even get the consolation that they were still alive. It should have been Solas, holding her as he once did, but he was gone and her bed was empty and cold.

Sleep cannot be avoided, no matter how much one wishes it so. Lavellan spent countless late nights trying to understand political treaties and machinations that went far beyond her sheltered Dalish life, spent all day training hard to maintain her own combat readiness, but sleep came, and with it came the dreams of red and death.

For a month she feared sleep. The bags under her eyes grew and her skin, already pale, grew excessively wan. She rubbed at the spot her vallaslin had been at. Her sadness was not sweet- it was frequently angry and irritable, though she took it out only on herself, and never on those that remained close to her.

Just when she thought her sanity would run out, Lavellan’s dreams changed. It happened one night, and continued in a pattern from there on afterward. The dreams started as usual. She was trapped in an endless battlefield in the Arbor Wilds. The place’s beauty was shattered by the red on the leaves, so stark against all the greenery. Red Templars, twisted to the point of inhumanity, lurked behind every tree, while a continuous, booming laughter was the only noise that could be heard.

Then things abruptly changed. The laughter stopped, and the Templars fell back. Out of the forest bound a wolf, pure black, much larger than anything Lavellan had seen in life. She should have feared it, but she felt a curious affection instead. It drove the Templars away, almost as if it were protecting her, its body constantly between her own and the abominations. They backed off immediately, intimidated in a way that spoke well of the wolf, suggested he had a power far beyond that of an ordinary animal.

Slowly, the sound of bird song trickled in. The blood was still there, but the red was overshadowed by the green. Even the sun seemed brighter, reaching through the leaves in new ways to dapple the ground softly.

The wolf began to move away, looking over his shoulder at her as he went. This was a dream, right? Dreams didn’t have to obey logic. Hesitantly, but with increasing confidence, Lavellan followed. What happened next she didn’t remember, but she awoke with a smile on her face.


End file.
